Trouble in Mind: The Collected Stories, Volume 3
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
Fiendish suspense. Shocking twists.
Twelve diabolical tales.
New York Times bestselling author and highly acclaimed storyteller Jeffery Deaver-the undisputed "grand master of the plot twist" (Booklist)-returns with a dazzling new collection of short stories. In these twelve electrifying tales (including six written just for this anthology) Deaver proves once again his genius for the unexpected-in his world, appearances are always deceiving.
A devoted housekeeper embarks on a quest to find the truth behind her employer's murder. A washed-up Hollywood actor gets one last, high-stakes chance to revive his career. A man makes an impulsive visit to his hometown, and learns more about his past than he bargained for. Two Olympic track hopefuls receive terrorist threats. And Deaver's beloved series characters Lincoln Rhyme, Kathryn Dance, and John Pellam return in stories now in print for the first time.
on the floor. “We found Benson’s files in your house. And the computer logs at CSC showed you erased his records. You were at their house the day they died. It was you the witness saw in the hat and sunglasses. And the Whitleys? You killed them, too.” “I didn’t kill anybody!” “Okay, fine—you helped them kill themselves. You drugged them and talked them into it. And then cleaned up after.” He turned to the uniformed deputy. “Take her to Booking.” And she was led away, calling, “I didn’t do
life—the way he’d lived it. And the people who’d touched him and whom he’d touched. A foreman in the Bedford plant, who’d worked for the company for forty years… The other men in his golfing foursome… Veronica… His brother… His son, of course. Still no call from Randy. And for the first time it occurred to him that maybe there was a reason the boy—well, young man—had been ignoring him. He’d always assumed he’d been such a good father. But maybe not. He’d have to rethink that. Nothing makes
keyboard-friendly of the great classicists. Carmel continued, “When he left he said, ‘Say hi to your family for me, Carmel. Say hi to Daniel. You know, your husband, he’s a good carpenter. And say hi to Rosa. She’s a pretty girl. Pretty like her mother.’” Carmel was shivering now, tears were flowing. Sarah turned from the piano and touched the maid on the shoulder. “It’s all right, dear. You did the right thing to tell me.” The tears slowed and finally stopped. A Kleenex made its way around
toward the brownstone—“have him run the scene. He’s good.” “Amelia,” Sellitto barked. “Let the Bomb Squad handle it.” “Can’t, Lon. We’re out of time.” Sachs looked down at her clothes. A wool jacket. Did that create more static sparks than any other cloth? Or less? She didn’t know but took it off anyway. “Where’s the vic?” she asked the Latina officer. “In the back there’s a stairway. The laundry room’s in the basement off the hallway to the right. But—” Sachs sprinted into the building,
on foot.” “Could be,” she offered. “Where is he now?” “He was downtown. He’s supposed to meet me. Should’ve been here by now, I’d think.” The trooper took down their information and said he’d get an update while he waited until Taylor Duke returned. With ramrod-straight posture, he returned to his car, sat down, and began to type onto his computer. Sheriff Werther finished a conversation with Rudy, who headed back to the shop. The sheriff started up the cruiser and headed off. Pellam spotted